The Wolf Within
by LupineTears
Summary: When Melancholia's ever so kindly decided to let Valkyrie catch up on a little torture, an unlikely saviour appears. Looks like there's more to Skulduggery's past then he's let on to Valkyrie. Jealous? Of course shes not. What on earth gave you that idea?
1. Chapter 1

Every cell of Valkyrie's shattered body was screaming agony at her; her instinct was yelling to get to her feet, to run, to fight, but she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't give voice to the screams of pain that were building up inside her head.

Slowly, she realised that no new pain had been inflicted. Was the game over, was Melancholia gone? She tried to see, to open her eyes, but her lacerated eyelids were glued closed with a crust of dried blood; she dragged them open with a stab of pain, in time to hear a vicious, animal snarl from behind her. With panic rising in her throat, she tried to sit up, but her arms were shaking uncontrollably and every motion sent butterfly wings of agony fluttering through her body. She slumped back onto the ground, the damp earth sending chills through her t-shirt, and twisted her head to one side, but what she saw made no sense.

Melancholia, a tall, lanky figure in necromancers robes, blond hair ruffled by the sea breeze, stood with her face twisted in savage rage, sending waves of shadows crashing down on- what was it?

Valkyrie's first thought was 'dog,' but that wasn't right- the creature was too lean, too graceful, too lithe, it's eyes too yellow. And she knew that there was a word that would fit it perfectly, but her groggy mind couldn't comprehend it. Wolf.

What the bloody hell was a fricking wolf doing in Haggard? Her mind was too weary to search for an answer, her body too wracked with torment to do anything to help. All she could do was lie and watch as the blue grey creature faced the Death Bringer.

Melancholia sent a spear of shadows, which the creature neatly sidestepped; another jab was leapt, the third slid under. The wolf was incredibly fast, moving so as to nearly blur in front of Valkyrie's fuzzy eyes; but it was just a wolf, and sooner or later it would have to stop dancing. As it happened, sooner.

The necromancer sent a wave of darkness crashing down on the animal, and Valkyrie was certain there was no way it could evade this attack- she was right. But something strange happened, something that should be impossible. The wolf leapt straight through the wave, emerging seemingly unharmed, yellow eyes blazing, lips drawn back to show white teeth in a snarl.

Melancholia's eyes narrowed in confusion, and taking its chance the wolf darted forward and closed its teeth around her leg, ripping through the flimsy robes she wore and heading straight to the flesh beneath. The Death Bringer let out a shriek that was music to Valkyrie's ears, and sent a wall of shadows slamming down on the canines head. It seemed to feel that, but again it was curiously muffled- the attack should have taken the creatures head off, but all it did was force it into retreat, shaking it's head as though to clear water from it's ears.

They circled each other warily, Melancholia with a hand clasped to her injured leg- Valkyrie, even in her injured state, felt a flash of contempt. The wound couldn't be that bad, she'd had far worse in the course of her and Skulduggery's adventures.

With her free hand, Melancholia reached into her robes and pulled out a long, slender knife, presumably realising that Necromancy didn't seem to be working well on the animal, but that cold steel would do the trick. The wolf let out a low growl at the sight of it, and, moving so fast Valkyrie's eyes could hardly follow the motion, leapt at Melancholia. The jaws closed on the arm that wielded the knife, and Melancholia screamed as the crack of bones sounded sickeningly loud in the night time silence- a shadow darted up and hit the wolves ribs, this time having more affect than before and causing it to yelp in pain and loosen it's hold for a moment. Melancholia brought down the knife with her injured arm, and the wolf cried out as the metal pierced it's flank, cutting through the thick greyish fur. It let go of the broken arm and dropped to the ground, retreating hastily out of range, eyes turning wary now that it's opponent had a knife in her hand.

But Melancholia showed no inclination to attack; she was swaying where she stood, the weakness Valkyrie had glimpsed earlier returning to her pale face. She dropped to her knees with a thud, the knife falling to the ground and the wolf regarded her with narrowed eyes; a little sob escaped the necromancer's lips, and the animal took a step towards her, hackles bristling.

At which point, Melancholia drew an old fashioned revolver from her robes and pulled the trigger.

She was no good at aiming, but this close she didn't need to be. Twice she missed, but four bullets found their mark- two on the flank, one near the foreleg, and the final shot directly in the chest. The wolf let out a cry and staggered backwards, but Melancholia was already gone, gathering enough strength to shadow walk. Valkyrie's body, which had been kept awake despite the pain and blood loss by pure adrenaline and the knowledge it was still in danger, began to shut down, and darkness clouded her vision.

"Valkyrie, what happened?"

The Sanctuary bed was thin and hard, and even through her exhaustion and shock Valkyrie was keeping an eye on Nye as it stalked in it's long legged way round the Sanctuary, lopsided rip of a mouth twisted into what might have been a smile. She was still far from trusting that _thing _that had once dissected her, and she wished Kenspeckle was still here to heal her and be grumpy and make her feel bad about being hurt. But no.

Next to the bed stood Skulduggery Pleasant, the Skeleton Detective, mentor, and best friend. Though his skull was, as normal, expressionless, Valkyrie had become very good at judging his moods, and right now she could see he was ready to kill somebody. For once, she was right behind him in that particular urge; humiliation and anger were both racing through her mind at the moment, and she'd have loved to pay her tormentor back in kind.

"Melancholia." She told him, and saw his fists clench. He gave a tight little nod, and she continued. "She wasn't there to kill me, she just wanted to cause me pain, and she's powerful, Skulduggery, too powerful. There are symbols etched all over her face, and I don't know what they're doing to her but it's not right. She had these moments of weakness, and-" she gave a self conscious, embarrassed laugh. "I think I might have been hallucinating for a while."

Skulduggery tilted his head that way he did. "Why's that?" his voice was velvet and restrained, as it always was, but Valkyrie could sense the rage lurking beneath the surface, and it unsettled her. She wasn't used to this version of Skulduggery, and angry as she was at the thought of Melancholia, he almost… frightened her? She dismissed the thought instantly, but it still lingered at the back of her mind.

"Well, don't laugh at me, ok? But for a while, I thought I could see a wolf fighting Melancholia." She gave an embarrassed chuckle that came to a halt as she looked at Skulduggery.

The skeleton was standing as still as stone, frozen in place. "Skulduggery?" she sat up, anxious, her body still aching.

"What did it look like?" he asked, his voice emotionless. Valkyrie frowned, confused.

"Skulduggery?" she asked again uncertainly. Suddenly, his bony hands were on her shoulders, squeezing tight enough to hurt.

"What are you-"

"_What did it look like?"_

Close to fear, Valkyrie searched through the foggy memories. "Um, grey?" she hazarded. The detective didn't lose his grip, but continued to stare at her.

"Bluish grey." She improved hastily. "Uh, wolfish? Yellow eyes, four paws, maybe a white smudge on its muzzle?"

He loosened his grip a little, but didn't move away. "What happened to it, Valkyrie?" his words were little more than a breath that stirred her dark hair, and suddenly the words she was about to speak seemed dreadfully significant.

"It got shot." She said quietly. "The shadows didn't seem to have much affect, but she knifed it when it broke her arm, and then she collapsed. It was over, you could see she was in no fit state to use magic, but… but she had a gun."

Skulduggery withdrew, and bowed his head in a nod for a moment. Then, with a suddenness that made her jump in shock, the detective punched the wall with enough force to shatter the plaster. Nye scurried away, and Valkyrie merely stared, mouth open in shock. The skeleton looked at her expressionlessly, and she had to fight the urge to recoil from his burning anger. "Any chance it might still be alive?"

She thought back, shutting her eyes as she struggled to remember, and once again saw the four bullets entering the wolf with brutal force. "I don't know." She answered honestly, still not certain why it was so important. And then, suddenly, the detective's bony arms were around her and they were flying. The Roarhaven sanctuary was small, but even so Skulduggery didn't bother making his way through the corridors. He just went straight through a nearby window, out into the open air.

"Skulduggery- what-" Valkyrie tried to speak, but she didn't know if he even heard her. This was flight with no regard to safety, as fast as Skulduggery could possibly move, the ground blurring far beneath them. Valkyrie tried to scream, but the air whipping past them stole the sound from her as soon as it escaped her mouth, and she merely clung on, petrified, and screwed her eyes shut in the hope that it would all be over soon.

**Mysterious, eh? All will be revealed in the next chapter or so. Please review and let me know if you liked it or not, and whether you think I should bother continuing with this storyline. Thanks for reading ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Where was it?"

Valkyrie was tired, aching, irritated and more than a bit worried by her partners strange behaviour. She had learnt to trust his judgement over the past few years, and she could see why he wanted to find the wolf that had been so curiously immune to Melancholia's powers, so curiously keen to fight to the death over Valkyrie, and so curiously wandering about in the middle of bloody Ireland. But Skulduggery seemed almost… dangerous? What on earth about her most-likely-hallucination could have made him like this? Maybe he had a phobia about wolves or something… But the last place Valkyrie wanted to be at the moment was the cliffs of Haggard- she'd just been tortured, for Christ's sake, and he had effectively kidnapped her and dragged her back out here again. If he had been anybody but Skulduggery, her best friend, she'd have punched them by now. Even so, it was definitely an option.

"I'm not sure, Skulduggery. My head was a bit cloudy- agonising torture tends to do that to me." She answered snappily. Skulduggery pressed on, oblivious.

"But whereabouts, roughly?"

"I told you, I don't- wait, hang on. The cliff edge looks kind of familiar. I think it was round about here."

Their landing lacked Skulduggery's usual grace- he simply let them plummet to the ground, and Valkyrie felt a jarring shock run through her weary legs as she hit the windswept grass. She stumbled at the force of it, half expecting the skeleton to steady her, but he was already up combing the area despite it being painfully obvious that the wolf wasn't there. Valkyrie got back to her feet huffily, shivering in the thin hospital gown- she felt cripplingly vulnerable in it, and wished she had the protective clothes Ghastly had made for her. The thought of Ghastly made her feel a prickling of guilt- he newly appointed Elder would no doubt be going mad with worry when he heard Skulduggery had punched a hole in the wall, abducted her and left via the window. He'd probably assume they'd gone to kill Melancholia. Valkyrie was pretty certain that was still on the agenda.

Fiddling with the sleeve of the hideous lime green gown, she walked over to stand next to Skulduggery.

"No sign of it." She said, and realised with a stab of self disgust that she was still trying to pretend she had some modicum of control over the situation.

"The wolf isn't an it. She's a she. But you're right." He said in the absent tone of voice Valkyrie recognised as a sign he was deep in thought. She frowned, and opened her mouth to speak.

"How-" was as far as she got before Skulduggery, apparently struck by a thought, walked over and stood perilously close to the cliff edge.

"Unless…" he said, gazing over at the raging sea.

"You think it fell?" asked Valkyrie, looking down doubtfully. Skulduggery adjusted his hat slightly against the wind, and shook his head.

"No. She was injured, possibly fatally. Animals like to be alone if- if they're going to die." His velvet voice sounded choked, and she gazed at him incredulously. Was Skulduggery Pleasant really so upset over the death of a wolf? Sure, it was sad, and Valkyrie was grateful to the creature for saving her from more pain at the hands of the Death Bringer, but she was a detective. Death was part of the job description, and Skulduggery had never seemed particularly emotional over even the most grisly murders.

"She didn't fall." He said softly. "She's much too smart for that. She wouldn't just stumble over the edge- it would be deliberate. But she'd only hide away if she was certain she- she was going to die."

Valkyrie was rather bewildered by the whole thing, but Skulduggery didn't wait for her to give her opinion- he grabbed hold of her and leapt over the edge, manipulating the air to slow their descent, finally coming to rest on a ledge protruding from the cliff face. In front of them was a hole in the densely packed earth and rock of the cliff face, not quite a cave but just a slight natural shelter from the wind and the stormy sea that obligingly sent a spray of icy water to soak them just as they landed. Unusually, Skulduggery seemed unconcerned with the damage to his exquisite suit- his gaze was fixed on the limb, bedraggled shape that lay motionless in a small pool of it's own blood.

It was the wolf, and for a moment Valkyrie was certain it was dead- it looked so small and pitiful. Then it let out a laboured breath that gave a rattle as it left it's- her- throat. Valkyrie had seen the signs of impending death all too many times before- the wolf must have been lying here, bleeding and dying by inches, for at least three hours. It was surprising she had held on for so long.

"Skulduggery…" she said, uncertain how to state the obvious- that the wolf was soon to slip away from life altogether. But the skeleton was no longer by her side- he was on his knees in front of the wolf, gloved hands stroking the soaking, bloodstained grey fur.

"It's ok." He murmured softly. "It's alright."

Valkyrie paused awkwardly, fighting with the feeling she was intruding on something private, before stepping to stand next to the skeleton and placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the bones beneath. She watched as the wolf opened one yellow, pain glazed eye and gazed up at them. Suddenly, a shudder seemed to ripple from head to foot of the wolves body- Valkyrie jumped back in shock as the creature tipped back her head and gave an agonised cry, her limbs beginning to shake and tremble as her spine arced with a horrible crack.

"Skulduggery, she's dying." Valkyrie said, as gently as she could. "You said she'd want to be alone, didn't you? We should leave her."

"No." to her surprise, the skeleton stayed where he was. "She's not dying. She's changing."

"Changing?" she asked, but he placed one finger where his lips used to be in a motion for silence.

They both watched at the wolf thrashed back and forth, jaw opening and closing in silent pain, eyes wild. Valkyrie winced as she heard the crackle of bones realigning, and saw the wolves features changing, the muzzle and ears shrinking, fur receding. And in a matter of minutes, where the wolf once lay, there was a woman, her side heaving with the effort of the shift. She was small and skinny, with wavy dark blond hair and bright, silver blue eyes, a pretty face contorted with pain. She wore jeans, and her Paramore: Brand New Eyes T-shirt was stained with both the bright red and the dark brown of fresh and dried blood, as were her bare, dirty feet. She let out a pained groan.

"You're either the grim reaper, or Skulduggery Pleasant." Her voice was a cracked whisper that Valkyrie could barely hear.

"It's me, Skulduggery." The detective murmured, reaching out and placing a tentative hand on her heaving ribs. "You won't be seeing the other option for a while yet, I promise."

Her eyes were unfocused and empty, but she managed a weak smile.

"Too late." She whispered. "Bullet through the lung. Think it hit a couple of other places as well."

Her gaze travelled to Valkyrie standing behind Skulduggery with an lost expression on her face. "Oh good." She mumbled. "She didn't get killed."

With that, her eyes slid shut and she slumped to the floor, motionless.

"She's-" Valkyrie gasped, but once again Skulduggery interrupted her.

"No. She wouldn't die. She's too strong for that." He looked up at her, head cocked to one side, voice grim. "We need to get her to the Sanctuary, fast. Phone Fletcher."

**Got Chapter 2 up as fast as I could… Hope you all like it! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

Two minutes and thirty-three seconds later, Skulduggery Pleasant walked through the doors of the sanctuary with an unconscious, blood soaked ex-wolf held in his arms. He brushed aside the cleavers and anxious officals, and strode straight into the hospital, Valkyrie and Fletcher, his blond hair as huge and spiky as usual, hurrying to keep up. Nye was stalking, long limbs swinging, from empty bed to empty bed, it's stitched body lit up by the harsh operating lights.

Gently, Skulduggery lowered the unconscious girl onto one of the mattresses, but she clung onto his silk tie with sleeping fingers, instinctively holding onto the nearest living thing, and rather than prise her hand from him he sat down next to her, and glared fiercely at Nye, managing to convey the fact he was glaring despite not having any eyes.

"Fix her." he said commandingly. Valkyrie gazed at Nye warily, visions flashing through her mind of her heart in a vice, being turned tighter and tighter. She looked away hurriedly, gulping down the remembered panic she felt fluttering in her chest.

Nye swayed it's way over to peer with yellow pupilled eyes at the skinny figure on the bed.  
>"Oh, dear." Nye whined mockingly in its high, nasal voice. "Look what the cat dragged in. You have been a naughty boy, haven't you, detective?"<br>"Fix her." Skulduggery said again, voice emotionless.  
>"Is this, or is this not, the young woman known as Amara Dusk?"<br>Skulduggery was silent for a moment before replying.  
>"It is."<br>"Then what will you do if she doesn't make it?" Nye whispered, leaning in close so that its face, with the scab of a nose and lopsided mouth was inches from Skulduggery's skull. "She's nearly dead. If I can't bring her back from the brink, what risk do I run? Will you go mad with rage again, and set off on a killing spree?"

Skulduggery lowered his skull slightly, gazing at the dreaming, dying face of the wolf girl.  
>"Just save her." his voice cracked. "Please."<p>

Nye laughed in its whining way as it set to work.

_

Valkyrie had rarely seen China Sorrows uncomposed- once, when she had been shot while recovering Skulduggery from the world of the Faceless Ones, and once when Valkyrie herself had accidentally vaporized a bookshelf with the sceptre of the ancients. Even then, she had only let her emotions rule her for a moment or two.

Today, China was, as usual, absolutely breathtaking. Her raven black, glossy hair was pinned up in a golden, dragon shaped clasp with glittering rubies for eyes, and earrings shaped like tiny birdcages. Her dress was deep red, her pale blue eyes were smoky, and her shoes were high and gorgeous. Next to her, Valkyrie felt it painfully that she'd been up all night being ripped apart, stitched back together, going on insane rescue missions, and now being sent off to find out more about Melancholia. Currently, though, she wasn't too interested in the Death Bringer- she was far more intrigued with finding out from China exactly who Amara Dusk was.

As Valkyrie wearily recounted the events of the night, her torture merited a blink, the wolf a slight raising of one eyebrow, and the telling of who exactly it had turned out to be resulted in China choking on her tea. Not messily, obviously- she pulled it off with as much grace as was humanely possible.

"Amara Dusk?" she asked. "Are you certain?"  
>Valkyre nodded, and China gave a delicate laugh.<br>"No relation, dear, no relation." she said, guessing what Valkyrie was going to ask before she'd even formulated the question. "So, Amara's come home, has she? I'll bet Skulduggery's in shock over that, yes?" she sipped tea elegantly, poised once more.

"Well, yeah." Valkyrie admitted. Was it childish she was a tad peeved that wolf girls injuries at Melancholia's hands were all anybody cared about suddenly? Probably, but she'd just been tortured. She should be allowed a 24 hour leeway in which to me childish if she so chose. And she did. Speaking of 24 hours, she should be asleep, in bed. With covers and pillows and things. Not coming to speak to China alone for updates, because her partner couldn't leave the hospital while wolf-girl hovered between life and death. She'd left Fletcher behind too, but that was just because he was being annoyingly over protective of her- again, she suspected it was childish she'd had to bite back the words 'Bit late for that, isn't it?' when he'd tried to insist on 'keeping her safe'.

"Who exactly is she, anyway?" she asked, gulping down the tea that China had made for her. Valkyrie didn't like teacups- they were too delicate. She preferred mugs, preferably without any 'amusing' quotes on them. Note the quotation marks.

"Skulduggery never mentioned her?"  
>Valkyrie shook her head.<br>"But no, he wouldn't, would he?" China murmured, tipping her head back onto the back of the armchair and gazing speculatively at the ceiling.  
>"Well, we'll start with the boring stuff before we get to the juicy gossip." she laughed, and took another sip of tea before contuing again.<br>"She's a rather unusual adept, a member of a branch that's all but died out. As far as I know, she is the only shape shifter in existence- and when I say as far as I know, it's all but certain. When she shifts, which I understand is a rather painful experience half the time- wolf to human hurts, human to wolf is easy. Of course, they weren't always wolves, it could be any animal, and in that form they would be naturally shielded, at least partly, from most magic. Well, for a while- if they're under constant attack the ability lessens gradually. and in their human forms they would keep some of their animals gifts. Do you see?"  
>"Um. Not really."<br>China sighed at the dullness o humanity in general. With one exception, naturally.  
>"A pack of wolves has one of the closest connections in all of nature." she explained with an air of virtuous patience. "They can read each others moods, thoughts, communicate without words... This is the gift Amara brings to her human form. Once she's known somebody for a while, she can feel their emotions and sometimes thoughts. It depends how close she is to somebody- from a stranger she can feel virtually nothing. The bond begins to fade if she's away from them for more than a month or so, but never vanishes completely. And that is pretty much the extent of my knowledge as far as Amura Dusk's magic goes. If you have any questions, please feel free to not ask me them." China smiled in her normal effortlessly self satisfied way. "Now, on to the good stuff."<p>

Valkyrie was rather intrigued with the idea of Amara's powers- it must be amazing, to be able to sense the moods of your friends and family- she would have no problems trying to judge what Skulduggery's thoughts behind his excellent poker face, with that power. What must it be like, to be a wolf? She wondered, but pushed it aside as China continued to speak, with considerably more enthusiasm than she had possessed before. It seemed she had held little interest in Amara's powers, at least not next to 'the good stuff.'

"Amara was one of the Dead Men, or Dead Women in her case. She wasn't the most famous since most of her missions were undercover, and few knew she was even part of the group, or existed at all. But those who mattered knew, and she was a well valued instrument in the war. A double agent, or as it turned out triple agent, she went from side to side spying and feeding both titbits of information; I knew her fairly well from seeing her around in both forms during the war, but had never spoken to her. Of course, the titbits she fed to our side, she informed the others of, so that they could act accordingly, but nevertheless they generally turned out to be profitable enough that she remained valuable in Mevolent's eyes. Mevolent referred to her as the double edged blade, which was probably an accurate description. Serpine and her hated each other passionately, Baron Vengeous and her had a fairly cordial relationship, and I don't think she got on too well with Lord Vile. To our Diablerie, she was a loose cannon that might or might not turn out to be useful, but she was clever enough to play her cards right and we were never allowed to harm her.

It was around then that our dear Mr Pleasant's family was killed, and he came back fuelled with the desire for vengeance. You never saw him back then, but he was vicious. All he cared about was war- it became the ground he walked on, the air he breathed. Even his closest friends- Ghastly Bespoke, Anton Shudder, Dexter Vex, Erskine Ravel- were frightened of him, though they would never admit it. Before, people had followed him because he was a great leader who inspired loyalty- now, they followed him because they were terrified of him, literally terrified. When magic and weapons failed him, I saw him rip an opponent apart with his bare hands, driven by hatred and hopeless rage. The people who loved him most were helpless, repelled by the creature who had been their friend, uncertain of whether he was still in there somewhere.

But Amara, Amara knew. You see? Her gift let her know exactly how he felt, exactly what he killed for, and she became his only comfort, the one friend that he trusted completely and utterly never to abandon him. He'd come back from the battlefield, exhausted and smeared with blood, and sob with the memory of all that was lost while she rocked him like a child, or so Serpine took great amusement in telling me. It took a long while, but she began to help him to heal. His other friends, releived, returned, but she remained as the only one he trusted with all his secrets, with his very soul in all it's darkness. Some say they were lovers, others merely companions, but none can deny they were so close as to rarely be apart- when, that is, she was over at Skulduggery's side, and not dancing with death at ours. Painfully aware of his own cruelty and hate, she was the only thing that kept his sanity fairly intact, that stopped the darkness in him overwhelming the light. The war ended, and for a few years they remained together, Skulduggery still shellshocked and frightened of himself, and then without any warning she left. Why, even I don't know. Perhaps they argued, perhaps they discovered something in each other they found distasteful, I have no idea, but she was gone, leaving him as desolate and lost as ever. Since then, her name has been something of a taboo with Skulduggery. Can't imagine why."

**Ah, I love China Sorrows :3 Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter… All those who review, I love you forever. Unless you review to insult me, my family, and my pet dragon Spork, in which case I will probably not love you forever. Probably. In other news, somebody gave me a pillow shaped like a penguin for Christmas. Sweet **


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